


the discipline game

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Orgasm Denial, Sibling Incest, You Have Been Warned, vibrator use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ravus is in charge of making sure Lunafreya behaves.Or, Ravus makes Luna wear a vibrator during a formal dinner. From the kinkmeme, warning for sibling incest smut.





	the discipline game

**Author's Note:**

> From [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9960331#cmt9960331).

"Princess Lunafreya, are you quite all right?"

Luna blinked rapidly at the man sitting next to her, who was wearing an expression of alarm. He was some sort of councillor from a further region in the North — their conversation had had something to do with mining, if she recalled correctly, before she had tuned him out. She had thought she had been wearing an expression of polite interest, but she must have been slipping. Not that she had expected him to notice — these types rarely noticed anything but her proximity to them, regardless of her state of attention.

Now he was looking at her hand on the table, gripped tightly around the stem of her silver fork. Her dessert, a gold-filigreed bowl of some sort of cream and sugar confection, had barely been touched. She felt Ravus's eyes burning on the side of her neck.

She must be a fair sight, she thought, slightly embarrassed: flushed, eyes glazed, trembling. She forced her hand to relax on her thigh.

"Yes," said. She wetted her lips. "I — I apologize. I must be... more tired than I had thought."

"Yes, you have travelled more than your share in the past weeks," the man acknowledged, sympathy lighting up in his gaze. "And your duties would be a considerable burden for anyone, much less for a fine young lady such as yourself."

Luna felt tempted to bristle — what did he mean by that? — but as her lips parted, all that escaped was a small gasp. She felt more than saw Ravus glance away.

"Lunafreya," the man said, greedily concerned. "Ought you retire? Shall I —" and he was almost stumbling to stand now, falling over himself, "— might I escort you to your rooms?"

Luna's knuckles were going white against her leg, and still she felt her eyes nearly roll out of her head.

She inhaled deeply. "No, thank you, that won't be — that shan't be necessary," she said, and thankfully, at that moment, Ravus rose gracefully from his seat on her other side.

"Councillor," he nodded. "The Oracle needs her rest. I shall escort Lunafreya to her quarters."

"Oh," the man said, looking taken aback. "I thought..."

Ravus's face didn't change. It remained perfectly straight as he towered over the both of them. Luna was grateful for her brother's composure at times like these, if at no others.

"Yes," the man conceded, and rapidly shrank back into his chair, already eying his dessert and wine once more. "I bid you good night, then, Princess. Commander."

Luna rose as Ravus slid her seat out from behind, and took a moment to steady herself with a hand against the back of the chair. Once she felt steady enough on her feet, she slipped her hand through the crook of her brother's arm.

"Thank you," she breathed once they were out of earshot.

Ravus's mouth curved slightly. "You do have an early morning," he said.

He knew full well that wasn't what she meant, but she let him have it.

The two of them walked from the hall in silence, letting the conversation of the diners in the great hall fade behind them. The click of her heels against the white marble floor took them to the elevators.

She let herself lean against him on the ride up. The air was warm, and the heat of Ravus's hand radiated through the back of her thin dress. After a moment, he slid his hand to the side of her hip, kneading lightly at the flesh there.

"Not yet," he murmured in her ear.

Luna's breath escaped her in a low hiss. She didn't answer.

The elevator pinged, the doors slid open, and Ravus let his hand fall. They resumed their pace, briefly tilting their heads at the guards lining the hall.

At the doors to her rooms, a guard saluted. "Evening," he said.

"Evening," Ravus said. "All is in order?"

"Yes, sire. Will the Oracle require any assistance tonight?" Her handlers were in the routine of allowing her servants and handmaidens to tend to her in the evenings and mornings as required, but would let her alone upon request.

"No. I believe she will not," Ravus answered. "I shall assist her as needed." The guard nodded, and the doors opened for them.

"See she is not disturbed until the morning call," Ravus said, standing aside as Luna stepped in ahead of him. A muffled acknowledgment of the command followed, but Luna paid no further attention.

The wide bed, she saw, had been prepared for slumber, the white satin sheets turned, the pale blue pillows set against the gilded-tile headboard, and the gauzy golden canopy drapes loosed. The flickering amber lamps had been turned low, and a linen robe laid out on one of the leather couches scattered around the room. It was temporary, she knew, and more ostentatious than was necessary — she would have been happy with a balcony view and a bathtub — but it meant little to her where they stashed her away on these trips.

At the moment, it meant little to her where she was at all, as long as they were let alone.

She stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded neatly behind her. Tightly, if anyone had bothered to look, but she knew Ravus wouldn't mind. She waited as Ravus shut the heavy oak door and turned the lock. He turned to her, undoing a fastening at his collar.

His eyes roamed over her — her straight posture, the straps of her heels, the flimsy white dress decorated with threads of silver and gold and leather and whatever else the Imperial designers deemed necessary, the crest of the Nox Fleurets at her throat.

"You may undress," he said, and thank the Six — Luna's hands flew first to her heels, yanking at the straps, kicking them off to step onto the plush rug beneath; she next set to work on the laces at her waist, nearly tearing them off as she fumbled.

Ravus chuckled as he pulled off his glove. "Take care, sister," he said. "We haven't ordered any tailors."

"I have other dresses," she said, and her hands were shaking — Ravus took pity on her and reached out, undoing the fastening at the back of her neck. Luna's breath left her with explosive relief and she let her arms drop again to her sides as Ravus handled the intricate knots and clips, his knuckles sliding across the knobs of her spine as he went. She shivered lightly.

Once the dress was undone, Ravus carefully, carefully lifted it from her and allowed her to step out. She was left in only the thigh-length shift underneath. She stood woozily as he set the dress aside on a bench.

He turned back to her. "Sit," he said.

She stepped back, and barely managed to conceal a flinch as she lowered herself to the bed. Almost, almost.

Ravus stepped in close to her. Her face was of a level with his waist, as they were, and she could smell leather on him, smell something like forest mist, something familiar. She closed her eyes as he ran a hand over her cheek.

"Your speech today was lovely," he said. "You did very well."

"Thank you, brother."

He didn't speak further, but his hand slid to her shoulder, thumbing the stretch of bare skin between her neck and shoulder. She relaxed into his touch, breathing coming slower, hands flat on the tops of her thighs; her breath sped again, coming to a hitch as his thumbs dug lower, catching the soft fabric of her shift, and then dragging over one peaked nipple. A noise escaped her.

"No," he said sharply. Her eyes flew open as his hands halted. He was looking down at her with a frown. She clamped her mouth shut again.

His hands resumed their pattern, and she bit her lip as he knelt before her. His palms roamed over her small breasts once, twice, softly, and he listened to her breath catch, watched her hands tighten; then he resumed the massage at her waist, his hands coming to a hover over the flat of her stomach and hips.

"Lie back," he said, and he didn't have to say it twice — she lay back, the mattress sinking beneath her, and finally, finally, his thumbs hooked under the hem of her shift and lifted it.

He made a sound, pleased, to see her cream lace panties exposed — and the straps beneath, running around her waist, keeping the low-humming device inside of her.

One hand at her waist, his other went to her legs, stroking first the outside of a thigh, and then venturing inside. "Gods, you're soaking," he said, sounding amused; and she was, slick wetness running down the insides of her thighs, slickness between her knees, messy all through dinner, under the table. His rough thumb eased down the wet lace and flicked over the juncture of her thigh, pressing down. She bit back a moan.

"Enough, sister?" he said.

"More," she said, quavering, and he bent and kissed her knee before parting her legs.

His fingers went gentle first, a light pinch high on her thigh. He slid a finger between her pink, slick folds, and she felt herself tighten and nearly cry out when his knuckle nudged the base of the device. His fingertip worked along its edges where it met her flesh, and he massaged her wetly, finding the sweet spot to tease at, rubbing in a light circle around it before pulling away again. Her entire body jerked, aching to follow, but he held her down with his hand on her hip.

"Brother," she whimpered.

"Easy," he warned. She stilled.

He wiped his hand and drew his phone out of his pocket, then, laying it down on the sheets beside her; she blinked back water, and he soothed her with a stroke to the shin before he hoisted her leg over one shoulder. He spread her open with one hand, thumbing her folds apart, and then he tapped the screen of his phone twice.

The device, already warm and humming, increased in vibration. Luna cried out helplessly as her body clenched around it, muscles trembling, her entrance clamping around it and then loosening again, stretched desperately around the buzzing intrusion.

"You're beautiful," Ravus said, awe in his voice as she thrashed, her head turning from one side to the other as she gasped for breath; he tapped the phone again, gentle and loving as he would her own flesh under his hands, and then again, and Luna's chest heaved at the change in interval, the renewed sensation of heat deep within her, permeating her, her tendons and muscles strung like wire, shaking like a leaf.

She cried out again as Ravus laid his hand atop it, flat against her entrance, his fingers against her, and moved — a rolling motion, pushing it deeper, and then letting up again, pausing and repeating. She was damp all over, the bedsheets damp beneath her, beneath them, and Ravus himself was beginning to flush as he crooked his finger to slip it in beside the vibrator, feeling it inside her, and pressing his thumb into the swollen, overstimulated bud of her clit.

"Ravus," she gasped. "Brother. Ravus. Ravus —"

He would have her beg, but she stopped short of saying please, even with her hair plastered to her forehead and her eyes streaming wet; she knew he had watched her through the speech tonight, and through dinner, every moment she had lost her train of thought, every whitening of her fingers on her fork, the spots of color on her cheeks, the wetness of her lashes behind her handkerchief. Those moments had been his, and she would not give him more than his share.

Ravus, as always, gave in before her. He laid a hard, bruising kiss to the inside of her thigh, and bent his head between her knees.

She felt his tongue lave against her folds, lapping up her salt before it dipped between, flicking and teasing the pooled moisture around her clit as his fingers worked the vibrator underneath; she clenched hard, her feet curling, and her back arching as moved torturously slow, the pressure even, circling her as the device whirred and nudged every soft spot inside of her, pressing deep and sweet. The tension was building in her belly, tight and feather-light at once, the edge of searing pleasure driving her mad.

He nipped at her clit then, pressing his lips against her and sliding his finger in alongside the vibrator to work at her from both angles. A long, keening moan escaped her and she arched her back, attempting to thrash. Ravus's nails dug into her thigh and kept her from moving as he stretched her, fingers roving to press sparks against the tight spot inside her, dancing and massaging and turning her into putty. A moment longer with no escape, her breath coming in thin wails, and her entire body twisted and seized — she nearly sobbed as she shook in his arms, thighs trembling, shocks wracking her spine, body clamping down and clenching around the vibrator again and again, bucking against her brother's mouth as he licked her through it, her breath leaving her lungs and not coming back for long enough that stars began to swim in her vision.

By the time she was aware again, Ravus was undoing the straps on the device and sliding it gently from her body. She could feel it warm against her thigh as he lifted it, and as it left her, she could feel the wetness dribble from her entrance — twitching and sloppy and loose and swollen, used.

Ravus sat on the bed beside her and stroked her hair, brushed it away from her damp neck, as he had done since they were children dozing under the sun.

"Will you listen, now?" he said low into her ear, voice like a laugh.

She breathed, and closed her eyes, and smiled.

"Perhaps," she mumbled.

 

 


End file.
